


What A Moment Can Do

by All_the_Lovely_Newsies



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Abuse, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort, Life is hard, Missing Scene, Multi, Sickness, TW: Blood, TW: Pain, The Refuge, Time in the Refuge, or scenes take your pick, tw: child abuse, tw: verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-07-08 19:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_Lovely_Newsies/pseuds/All_the_Lovely_Newsies
Summary: For a moment, everything was perfect. Voices were ringing proudly, eyes glistening and smiles spread wide. All his brothers were together, it was them against The World, and they were on top.A moment later it was all gone. Cheers turned to screams, smiles into tears, and Crutchie was being ripped away from everything he once knew.And he woke up in the Refuge.---A (not so quick) story about the unseen events of Crutchie in the Refuge.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Updates will be slow, I'm sorry. The first couple of chapters will be relatively calm in terms of triggers, but some scenes may be hard for some to read, so please read the notes. Be safe <3 Enjoy!

For a moment, everything was still. All the screaming and yelling ceased. The smell of dirt, sweat, and paper ink disappeared along with the sights they were attributed to. Everything that Crutchie was used to, all that he came to know and love was gone. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. How could everything be so still in a moment of chaos? 

But it was only a moment. 

One by one all of Crutchie’s senses returned. The smell- the stench of damp grime and the all-too-familiar scent of metallic blood quickly filled his nose.  
The feeling- everything hurt—oh God why did everything hurt? Crutchie tried to shift his weight, discovering he was lying flat on his stomach on a cold wood floor, and was met with a sharp pain running up from his leg into his back—damn his leg. The pain caused him to wince, sucking in the air between his teeth and clutching his eye tighter together.  
The taste- an unfortunately familiar metallic. At somepoint throughout the events he must have busted his lip. He grazed his tongue across his bottom lip, swollen and crusted over. Definitely busted.  
The sound- A quiet murmur arose from the otherwise silent atmosphere before one rose above the rest. 

“’Ey, looks like the new kid’s comin’ to,” came a voice from the darkness. 

“‘s about time. Alright, getta move on. Get up!” A new voice spoke up, yelling at Crutchie and using the tip of his shoe to emphasize his statement with a solid poke. Crutchie just laid there, his body refusing to comprehend the simply order. “Ya dumb or sumthin’? Move or I’ll make ya” the boy repeated, another poke following suit. 

“Lay off ‘im Fives,” the first voice responded, “kid can hardly keep his eyes open, and looks like da gutter ta boot.”

The sight- Crutchie groaned and forced his eyes to flutter fully open. Tilting his head up slightly he took the opportunity to try and figure out where he was. He could barely make out the group of young boys that surrounded him, all of varying ages and degrees of wariness. Most of the boys in the group seemed to all just form together in a foggy mass. Crutchie couldn’t make out just how many there were—though it seemed to be way more than there should in a room this size—nor could he really decipher one from the other. Whether or not his ability to see was hindered more by the growing and fading black spots speckled throughout his vision or the meager light coming through a single window in the room, Crutchie wasn’t sure. The two figures he could make out stood in front of the crowd, staring each other down. The one about a head taller than the other, Crutchie thinks he heard the smaller boy call him Fives, a bushel of dark hair upon his head, jabs a finger into the chest of the smaller boy. 

“I don’t care what shape he’s in. If he keeps layin’ there someone’s gonna trip on ‘im, an’ I’se not gonna deal with them cryin’ and shit all over. Or better yet, a goon’ll try to open the door and it’ll hit him or—“ The smaller boy scrunches his nose and swats away Fives’ lingering finger.

“Alright, alright, we get it” the boy squats down next to Crutchie, “Come on kid, ‘s not good to be lyin’ there anyways. Think you can stand up?” Crutchie stiffly nods, but doesn’t fully believe himself. He glances back up at the sets up eyes that seem to be glued to him. The number of boys that once surrounded him substantially dwindled, either from lack of interest or fear of Fives’ harsh words, but the eyes still made Crutchie feel unsettled. He felt like an animal that was forced to do tricks, like the ones in the circus he read about in the paper. 

Crutchie braced his hands against the ground and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Every aching bone in his body screamed against the action. Slowly, he pulled his good leg closer to his body and out of habit goes to grab his crutch…wait, his crutch. His eyes quickly scanned the area surrounding him and a panic brought upon a tightness in his chest. 

“Well,” the boy looked at Crutchie expectantly, his eyebrows furrowed together. Crutchie took a breath and tried to dig his nails into the wall beside him in an attempt to pull himself up. It took all but a second for him to crumple upon himself in a heap back on the ground. He pounded the ground with his fists and tried to fight back the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. Once again he felt alone, focused only on gaining back the breath he didn’t realize he lost in his endeavors, when a hand on his should shook him out of the daze. “Come on then,” the boy grabbed Crutchie’s arm and draped it over his shoulders, forcing Crutchie to his feet. Slowly, he gained his balance and shifted nearly all of his weight onto the boy who, luckily, was about his height and despite his frail appearance was able to take the weight. Crutchie looked down at his bad leg, twisted and bent in all the wrong ways, it was a wonder how the rest of the group didn’t notice it’s bad condition. However the rest of him probably didn’t look too much better, so it must have just blended in with the rest. 

As they made their way to a nearby bunk, the boy spoke up again, “The name’s Ten-Pin by the way” Crutchie gave a curt nod in response. In an effort to ignore the withering pain that made its way through his body with every step, Crutchie focused his attention on the bunks the duo walked past. Each was completely filled with five to six other boys, limbs hung off the edges with barely enough room for two, let alone three, children. In the lodging house, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to find two boys in a bed, conserving heat or making room new incomers, but this was a completely different sight. Crutchie sighed, missing the sound of his friends, bickering, teasing, laughing --hell any form of noise would suffice right now. There was an eerie silence in the room for how many boys there were, and any eyes that were once curiously watching Crutchie were now locked on a wall, ceiling, or pillow. All interest for the new boy was lost. 

“Ya gotta name?” Ten-Pin’s voice broke Crutchie out of his thoughts. 

But he was only able to stutter out a few noises before Ten-Pin stopped at the end of one of the bunks and called up “Eddy, Stretch!” A small boy popped his head of the bed first. His brown curly hair was sticking up at all angles and Crutchie could barely make out a faded yellowish-green bruise along his sickeningly pale jawline. It was some sort of relief that the bruise was old, but a part of him wondered what caused such a young kid to gain the mark. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. The boy gave Ten-Pin a big, toothy grin and went to respond but instead let out a long, straining cough into his arm and Crutchie couldn’t help but notice the large wet spot left behind on the child’s sleeve. Ten-Pin waited for the coughing to reside before continuing, “Stretch up there?” The boy-Eddy, Crutchie presumed-nodded, where else would the boy be, and motioned to slap at Stretch to wake him up. A dark skinned boy came into view, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Whatdya want now, I’se just gettin’ some shut eye.”

“This ‘eres a new kid, you guys gonna share with him” Stretch knitted his eyebrows and studied Crutchie. 

Narrowing his eyes he snapped, “He’s still bleedin’” Crutchie reflectively reached his hand up to his head only to be greeted with a mat of wet hair. So that’s why his head hurt so much. “It’ll get all over the bed, and us!” Stretch countered. Eddy’s eyes dropped and let out another cough in response. 

“You’se know well enough that you’se the two smallest. ‘e won’t take up too much room. ‘Sides I ain’t asking ya” Ten-Pin nodded at Crutchie to climb up the latter. Stretch grumbled something inaudible but laid back down. Crutchie took his weight off of Ten-Pin and gripped onto the latter with his life. He took a deep breath and looked up the latter as if it was the giant beanstalk from that one story Specs had been telling the younger boys. He turned to say something to Ten-Pin, perhaps to explain his predicament and difficulty climbing said latter, only to find him walking over to his own bunk and scampering up. Guess he could only care about a new guy so much. 

Crutchie gazed back up at the journey before him, the boys at the lodging house always allowed for him to have a bottom bunk for the sake of his leg- though he would deny any need for their concerns. On a good day he’d scale the latter to the roof of the lodging house with relative ease, but this wasn’t a good day. Nonetheless, these boys were allowing him into their bed, and he wasn’t in the mood to make any more enemies. 

Slowly, Crutchie hopped up the latter, trying his best to ignore the pain rippling through his body with every sudden movement. He was met at the top by the eyes of little Eddy, who was once again coughing up a lung. Upon closer viewing, Crutchie was able to make out dark purple crescents that lined the bottom of the boy’s eyes. Eddy patted the small space next to him on the flimsy mattress and attempted to scoot closer to Stretch in order to make room. 

Crutchie managed to maneuver his way to the small opening, clutching his bad leg as he laid down. Despite the attempt to make room the three boys were still laying shoulder to shoulder and he had to grip the side of the bed as to not tumble off the side. Tears threatened his eyes but he clenched his eyes shut to force them to recede. No tears, he had to be strong, he had to be tough, he had to be—a wet cough broke Crutchie from his thoughts. The younger boy was pressed tight up against his side, allowing for Crutchie to feel every hitch and shake. He remembered that feeling, being sick with no sign of recovery. Not being able to take a breath without it immediately being pushed back out.

Crutchie stayed wide awake, staring blankly into the dark. His eyes never fully adjusted to the lack of light, nor his ears to the eerie silence. After living so many years in the lodging house, Crutchie had grown accustomed to constant noise, even late into the night he would often fall asleep to whispered conversations and creaking bed frames. But here, here there was nothing, as if the boys didn’t move. As if Crutchie was already living with the dead. 

And Eddy’s cough never really seemed to stop though. The hacking sound made louder against the silence. After a few minutes of the continuous coughing, Crutchie couldn’t help but turn over and place a hand gently against Eddy’s back. He felt him tense up, causing cough to temporarily worsen. Crutchie slowly began rubbing Eddy’s back in small circle; when he was sick last winter, left awake due to a similar cough, Jack had rubbed his back in a similar way and it had helped ease the pain. 

“Hey,” Eddy whispered between coughs and turned over to face Crutchie, his eyes wide, “What’re you doin’?” 

“I’se just trying to help,” Crutchie pulled his hand away, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it- it feels nice. But—why’s you doin’ it?”

“I just want you to feel better. I know this is what helps me when I’se sick” 

“But, why’se you helping me?” Crutchie froze. Did this boy never have compassion shown towards him? What life did he live that there was no one to help him? 

“I don’t like seeing my friends hurt. Whenever someone is sick or hurt at the lodging house, everyone pitches in to help them.” 

“We’se friends?” 

“If you wanna be,” Eddy nodded and coughed once more, this time inching closer to Crutchie until Crutchie was forced to wrap his arms around the younger boy. He took the boy in without any hesitation. There was almost nothing to Eddy. Crutchie could feel every rib through his undershirt and his narrow hips dug into Crutchie’s gut, but he didn’t dare move. Even after just knowing the kid for a few minutes he would do anything to make him feel better. As he pulled the boy closer he expected to feel the warmth that the human body usually resonated, but despite it being the middle of July, Eddy’s small body was so cold it was as if he had been laying out in the snow. 

“Why you’se here?” Eddy asked as he wrapped his hand around a piece of Crutchie’s shirt. Crutchie had to think.

“Here?”

“The Refuge.” Even the word was enough to bring pain to the child. 

“The Refuge” he repeated under his breath. Deep in his gut, Crutchie always knew where he was. The crowded rooms, barred windows, freezing temperatures, and overall dirty atmosphere was just as the boys at the lodge had described it. But somehow, somehow, he’d hoped for a different answer. He had witnessed boys go in and out—sometimes only in—other times coming back a completely different boy. Crutchie looked down at Eddy, whose head was rested on his chest. Who was this boy before the Refuge? Had he been someone’s brother? Son? Friend? Maybe he loved to run around outside and play in the mud, like so many of the young newsies. Whoever he was, it was different than they boy Crutchie looked at now. 

“New Kid?”

“Crutchie.”

“What?”

“My name’s Crutchie, if we’se friends, you should know.” Eddy was silent for a moment, taking in the new information before continuing. 

“Crutchie, why’s you here? Da other boys ain’t nearly as nice as you’se.” Crutchie sighed, remembering the events from just earlier that day. 

“We’se on strike. Me ‘n the other newsies ‘n the hot shots ain’t too pleased with us. I’se was too slow to get away when the bulls showed.” Tears threatened his eyes once more. All of his friends, his family, standing side by side against the World. 

“What’s a strike?” Eddy innocently asked. Crutchie thought for a moment. 

“It means that the big guys, Pulitzer and Hearst and them, they’se doin’ something that is wrong—that we don’t like—and we ain’t standing for it no more. So we stop selling the papes until they change it.” 

“Just you kids? Like me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, alotta us is older, but yeah, just like you.”

“Wow, you’se real brave.” 

“Yeah, real brave.” He didn’t feel brave. Jack and Race and Davey and Finch and Specs were brave, Crutchie, he was just along for the ride. If he was brave he would have put up a better fight, hell he wouldn’t have gotten caught at all. If he were brave he would have shoved Snyder right off of him, instead he just called out for help. 

And then it was back to silence. Crutchie just laid there, staring at the ceiling as Eddy let out more coughs. This time he turned into Crutchie and he could feel something wet seep through his shirt. Crutchie began rubbing his back again and waited until the younger boy’s raspy breaths became even, signaling sleep. He now understood why Jack risked everything to steal and sneak blankets and clothes into this place. Just seeing Eddy, sickly Eddy, who was just about Les’ age—a sprightly boy who, despite having only known him for a short while, managed to cement his way into all the newsies’ hearts—being treated this way, living the life that no child should have to, made Crutchie want to do the same. He wanted to stay awake, mainly to make sure that the sickly child would continue breathing through the night, but eventually his exhaustion caught up to him and he drifted into an uneasy daze.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie remembers what got him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter Two! It's kinda filler?? But it was very important to me to explore Crutchie's viewpoint of the strike. Enjoy! 
> 
> Triggers: Some Violence, some blood. Nothing too serious but please tell me if there's something you'd like to see tagged!

_Papers were flying and everyone was screaming their victoires. They were going to do this, seize the day as Davey said. All the newsies of Lower Manhattan were on their side. Crutchie looked at all the boys surrounding him. They were smiling, bigger than Crutchie had ever seen and the spark in their eyes that had been lost the day before had returned brighter than ever. The boys, his friends, were ripping up the newspapers that just two days ago were their sole source of income. The flimsy material held within its ink whether or not they would eat that night. But now, now the choice was in their hands, literally. To his right Crutchie could see the Delancey brothers hiding behind a few piles of papers. Their eyes were wide, still in shock over the scabbers switching sides on them. Jack was patting Davey on the shoulder, congratulating him on his choice of words that convinced them to join the fray._

_To his left Elmer, Albert, Henry, Les, and Romeo were in the middle of a heated newspaper snowball fight, Les ran over to Crutchie, handing him a crumpled up ball and looked up at him expectantly. Crutchie smiled down at him and unfolded the paper. He held it out for Les to take one end. He happily did and the duo held the paper above their heads._

_“You see this Mr. Pulitzer?” Crutchie shouted and preceded to rip the paper in two. He felt a sense of pride well up in his chest. For once they were doing something about the wrongs in their lives and Crutchie was one of them. Together they were going to prove to Pulitzer and Hearst and all of those above them that they were more than just some street rats. Crutchie hobbled off with Les to join the snowball fight, his STRIKE banner flapping against his arm with every step. But as soon as it started the fight had stopped, and Les was no longer by his side._

_A quick scream alerted him to the younger boy’s location, over the shoulder of Morris Delancey. Crutchie took a step towards them but before he could get too far Jack and Davey were already rushing at the brothers. They were able to retrieve Les with relative ease, but then the rest of the newsies preceded to take their own swing at the pair. Finch, Mush, even Tommy Boy charged at them before Albert and Buttons forced them to the ground, only to be finished off by Les forcing their big heads together. Crutchie couldn’t help but smile. They truly were a family. If you messed with one Lower Manhattan newsie, you’d feel the force of all the others. And Les was certainly a Lower Manhattan newsies, despite him and his brother just joining the crew._

_Crutchie situated himself on the back of one of the wagons, enjoying the view of his brothers running around, causing chaos. Soon they were all rushing towards the distribution desk and Ike called after Crutchie as he hurried past “Crutchie come on, they’se gunna take our pitcha. We’se gunna be inna papes! Hurry up!” Crutchie didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly leapt off the wagon and muscled his way to where the rest of the boys were congregated, followed swiftly by Mush. The camera flashed and the boys cheered, papers once again floating through the air like snowflakes. For a moment everything felt right. Everything was going the way it should._

_But nothing good can stay. He should have known, the universe had something against the boys who lived on the streets. Silence washed over the crowd of boys. Confused, Crutchie turned to see Wiesel- and his band of goons standing opposite the newsies. He noticed that the Delancey brothers had returned, a new confident, snide smile creeping along their faces._

_“It’s time these kids learned a lesson” Wiesel yelled, hitting his baton against a piece of metal for emphasis. Mush ran up to him, ready to continue the soaking he started with the Delanceys, but Jack shoved him back. Everyone stared at their leader in anticipation. After a moment of silence Jack screamed a response._

_“Newsies! Get ‘em!” And all hell broke loose once more. The newspaper goons were nothing the boys hadn’t handled before, but whether they were filled with anger or just pure number, the bad guys seemed to be winning. The brothers that once wore confident smiles were not bleeding, falling, fighting. Crutchie took a few good swings of his own with his crutch but the attackers never seemed to cease. He looked up to find Albert clutching his hands to his head, curled in on himself on the fire escape, to his right Jack was leaping on top of some unfortunate soul, Henry was being dragged by his ankle across the ground, attempting to steady himself against something. Crutchie panicked. There had to be something he could do. Anything. He had to protect his friends, get them out of this mess. Something. Anything._

_A loud shriek of a whistle stopped the action once more. Everyone looked up to see an officer at the head of the fringe. His shiny buttons and clean uniform signaled some sort of importance. The bulls often showed up during street scuffles to break up the fighting that disrupted the otherwise calm streets. So this wasn’t completely unusual._

_“It’s about time you showed up,” Romeo cried, running up to the officer, exasperated, “They’re slaughtering us!” He looked for some sort of relief but was met with a swift backhand to the face instead. Romeo was sent flying as a group of bulls charged to mass of bodies. No, Crutchie thought, this is not what is supposed to happen. The bulls ain’t supposed to care about some kids. They weren’t doing anything illegal, at least he didn’t think so._

_“Cheese it, it’s the bulls!” a voice rang above the ruckus. He shooed Jojo, Romeo, and Finch away as they tried to run past him, he looked over his shoulder to see Race doing the same with Mush and Elmer. Davey gained a hard back hand as he tried to get past one of the bulls, but still pushes by and races away from the action, Les close at his heels. Crutchie darted his eyes across the circulation center, making sure that everyone was gone, or on their way out. He was the only one, oh god- he had to get out of there. His eyes glanced around meeting the back of a familiar dark head of hair, grey cap, and blue shirt._

_“Jack! Jack, wait for me!” he cried running as fast as his leg would let him, but Jack just ventured farther and farther away. Why wasn’t he waiting, why was he leaving him behind? Crutchie was so focused on his best friend running away that he didn’t see the Delancey brothers come up next to him until his arms were tight in their grip._

_“Where do you think you’re going?” Morris asked snidely, tightening his grip. Crutchie’s eyes went wide. Sure, he’s taken on the pair before, he could hold his own, but those were just small scuffles that usually ended quickly. This was different._

_“Jack! Romeo! Finch!” His voice unintentionally cracked as he screamed. What else could he do? Morris raised his hand to reveal a shiny pair of brass knuckles that made Crutchie’s stomach sink. “Jack!” Crutchie could feel his body instantly go cold and start to shake. Where were his friends? Why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?_

_“Aw, shut it!” Oscar sneered as he ripped the banner off of the crutch. Crutchie eyed Oscar, taking in his current situation. He finally realized just how alone he was. Everyone had gotten away, which was for the best. But he couldn’t shake the disappointed feeling of his best friends running away._

_“Stop, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Crutchie thought, “You’re not weak. You can do this.” With a sudden burst of confidence, he swung out his crutch and smacked Oscar right in the gut, causing him to let out a grunt and drift away. Crutchie turned to face Morris and was met with a face full of brass knuckles and was sent flying to the ground._

_If someone asked, Crutchie would claim it didn’t hurt. But-damn- did it hurt. There was no way he would come out of this without a hardy bruise across his cheekbone. Black spots danced across his vision and he could barely make out the towering figure above him. He raised his hands to block the sun that was piercing his eyes. The figure leaned over Crutchie and his chest clenched as he realized who it was. Snyder. The one man who made Jack Kelly quiver in his boots._

_“Well, well. It’s off to the Refuge with you, little man” Snyder cackled and raised a stick over his head. No-not a stick, Crutchie’s crutch. The crutch swiftly came across Crutchie’s abdomen. Again and again the crutch struck him, and each time he’d try to catch his breath, only for another whack to make him repeat the process._

_“No! Please, stop!” Crutchie cried, his voice coming out just above a whisper. He felt each strike against his body, despite his pleads and arms sticking out in an attempt to stop the weapon. With one last solid blow Crutchie turned onto his side, collapsing in on himself. Spots littered his vision, causing everything around him to go fuzzy. Abruptly he was forced into a seated position by the rough hand of Snyder yanking him up. That did nothing to help the pain that pulsates through his body. He was so focused on the pain that he didn’t even notice Snyder pull his hands up and clasp on a pair of metal handcuffs. The realization of his predicament struck him too late as Crutchie yanked his hands apart in a feeble attempt to break his bonds._

_“Jack! Help, please! Jack!” Crutchie cried one last time as one of Snyder’s goons grabbed him by his leg and dragged him across the dirt. Frantically, Crutchie tried to find his best friend. He couldn’t have just left him there, he couldn’t have forgotten about him. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. The guard wasn’t trying to be careful as Crutchie hit every rock and bump along the way to the paddy wagon. Along the way Crutchie dug his nails into the ground, trying to grab hold of something, anything that would slow him down or give him an opportunity to escape. All it gave him was bloody fingers and an extra hard tug on his leg._

_Crutchie was lifted up and chucked into the back of the paddy wagon. His head collided hard against the floor and he allowed his body to just lie there. Moments ago he was celebrating with his friends, laughing and cheering, and now he was in so much pain it’s like he couldn’t feel anything at all. He was numb, his limbs refusing to move, not that he could go anywhere anyways. Like a ragdoll he lay limp, sprawled out on the floor, bouncing and swaying with every movement of the wagon. Crutchie stared at a spot on the wall where a dark stain had left its mark. Or it could have just been one of the spots that were whittled around him already. Especially when all the small dots started to become larger ones, and the pounding in his head wouldn’t stop, and everything became more and more fuzzy, and that damn ringing in his ear just got louder and louder until that was all he heard and the spots were all he could see._


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse starting here guys. Please be safe. 
> 
> Triggers: Child Abuse, Pain, Blood, Verbal abuse, Fainting, Swearing (please tell me if I forgot anything)

Crutchie was hastily broken from his daze by a shaky bed and a voice screaming in his ear. There was no comfort in waking up, did he even ever fall asleep? His leg was twisted at an awkward angle, which was normal, but the pain, God the pain, wasn’t. He wasn’t sure exactly where it originated, but it spread across his entire body. 

“Get up, get up ya bums! I ain’t gettin’ in trouble cause you decided ya needed some more beauty sleep!” the voice yelled, echoing throughout the room. Crutchie shot up and immediately regretted it as his head pounded in protes. The room spun around him making his stomach churn. The familiar noise of the boys scampering out of their bunks made Crutchie think for a moment he was back at the lodging house. However, that thought was quickly refuted when he looked down to his side to see the frail, pale figure curled into his side. Crutchie’s chest clenched and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Eddy lying there not moving. He waited a moment, two moments, three and the child remained still. There was no movement in his chest, nor the familiar sound of his hacking cough to signal breathing. Panicked, Crutchie shook the boy’s shoulder, only to be distracted by the yelling once more. 

“New kid!” Crutchie looked over the edge of the bunk to see Fives staring daggers back at him. “New kid, let’s go, let’s go we ain’t got all day.” Crutchie’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he felt shifting next to him. 

“Crutchie. ’is name’s Crutchie,” Eddy squeaked. 

“Yeah, sure kid,” Fives rolled his eyes and moved onto the next bunk. A wave of relief washed through Crutchie as the smaller boy who was followed Stretch down the side of the bunk. Eddy took a deep breath and let out a long and painful cough into his arm. From the light of the morning, Crutchie could clearly see the bright red mark the cough left behind. His heart sank further as he took in just how dark the rest of his sleeves were. 

“Ya better get down ‘ere,” Stretch commented as he jumped down the last rung of the latter, “The guards ain’t the only one’s you should be scared’a.” Crutchie glanced back over towards Fives, whose hand was currently around another boy’s collar, forcing him to stand. Crutchie nodded and slid down the latter, allowing for his bad leg to dangle while he hopped rung to rung with the other. 

Just as he reached the ground the sound of jangling keys and the door being swung open caused any discussion to cease. Crutchie gripped one of the legs of the bunk to keep himself upright as the rest of the boys filed into two straight lines going down the largest aisle. He heavily leaned against the bunk, as any weight on his bad leg would surely send him to the ground. The guard slowly walked up the aisle, the baton tightly gripped in his hand, lightly smacking it against his other palm. Crutchie vaguely recognized the man as one of the goons that stormed the distribution center the day before. Anger welled within him as he watched the guard grab another boy by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Crutchie glared as he released the boy and let out a chuckle as the boy’s eyes fell immediately to the ground. 

The guard continued to do his rounds but suddenly stopped and scowled at…something. Crutchie didn’t notice anyone getting out of line, or any kind of ruckus being caused. Confused, he traced the man’s glare to Eddy, who was sitting crossed legged on the floor, a few boys down from him. 

“Get up, boy,” the guard growled and walked over until he was standing right in front of Eddy. The air thickened in the room and all the boys leaned forward to get a better view. 

“No!” Eddy stated bluntly, crossing his arms. An audible gasp sounded throughout the room and Crutchie could feel his heart start racing, what was this kid doing? 

“No? What do you mean no?” the guard tried to keep a steady tone but Crutchie could see his jaw visibly clench at the disobedience. 

“I mean no! I’se on strike!” Eddy turned his chin upward, a smirk plastered across his face. Crutchie’s heart sunk into his stomach. Before he could even blink, the guard swung his baton across Eddy’s shoulder gaining a yelp from the boy. A few of the onlookers winced, but no one made a move to help him. 

“I’m gonna give you one chance to try again boy, cause I’m feelin’ friendly today.” Eddy sniffled and clutched his shoulder but sat back up and looked at the guard straight in the eye. 

“No! I’se on strike. You’se doin’ sumthin’ wrong, and I don’t like it, so I’se not gonna stand for it anymore,” with the last statement Eddy turned to Crutchie and gave him a confident smile. Crutchie returned the look with a…much less confident one. Confidence turned to horror when the guard grabbed Eddy by the neck, hoisted him up, and pinned him to the nearest bunk. The young boy clawed at the guards arm in any attempt to free himself, to no avail. 

“You think you’re a tough guy, huh?” the guard clenched his hand into a fist and raised it up, sending it straight at Eddy’s face. “How tough are you now?” The room was silent besides the hitched gasps of Eddy trying to breath. Eddy’s nose was clearly broken, blood spilling down his face and onto the floor. He somehow managed to let out a huge cough, sending blood flying into the face of the officer. Caught off guard, the officer chucked Eddy to the ground in a huff and aggressively wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“You little shit! It’s ‘bout time you learned some manners.” The guard stomps over to Eddy, his face a dark shade of red- a mixture of the leftover blood and the anger that washed over his cheeks. Any boys that stood in a large radius of Eddy now backed off completely, hopeing to avoid any residual anger.. Crutchie could see Eddy laying motionless on the ground until the guard is about a step away from him. 

“Eddy!” he cried, “Stop!” He let go of the bunk to try and run over to his friend. He couldn’t just going to abandon the boy like his friends did to him. He only made it a step or two into his endeavor, partly because of his bad leg dragging behind him, but mostly because of the two pairs of arms that held him in place. 

“Are ya stupid or sumthin’?” Crutchie recognized the voice as Fives. He tried to throw one of his arms back in an attempt to elbow one of his captors in the side, but even as he does so he doesn’t get free. Crutchie looked over to see Eddy lift his head up off the ground to acknowledge the figure and opened his mouth to say something but is swiftly silenced by a kick to the ribs. Eddy hunched over, with every kick and stomp his body flinched and he cried out in pain. Crutchie continued to struggle on his own. 

“We gotta, we gotta help ‘im. We can’t just let ‘im-“ 

“Do you wanna be next?” Fives snapped sharply, but Crutchie could sense the inkling of fear behind the words. So all he could do was watch. Tears sprung from his eyes and he tried to yank his arms free once again, but his restrictors held their grip firm. Crutchie shut his eyes tight, not being able to watch as the boy he just met got pounded into a pulp, but he could still hear everything. The loud cries and coughs from Eddy, every thump and crack signally another blow, the occasional swear or grunt from the officer, each was heard clear as day, and made Crutchie feel useless. How was he better than anyone else if he just stood there? After what felt like a century, the cries stopped, Crutchie allowed his eyes to open to see the guard still kicking and punching the frail boy, but Eddy stopped resisting.

“Stop!” Crutchie screamed. Fortunately he caught the guard’s attention and he lost focus on the small boy. Unfortunately, his new focus was Crutchie. “He’s had enough.” The guard stomped over and Crutchie could feel the arms that held him still release their grip. 

“You’se got somethin’ ta say about it now? Huh, paper boy?” the guard sneered, rearing his fist back. Crutchie shut his eyes in anticipation of the oncoming blow that never came. 

“Nuh-no sir!” Crutchie opened on eye to see Ten-Pin standing to the side of him. “He ain’t sayin’ nothin’” Ten-Pin gave Crutchie a pointed look, and Crutchie opened his mouth to say something but Fives quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. The guard glared and the trio but simply let out a huff in response. He turned to leave the room, taking time to spit on Eddy’s motionless body, and slammed the door closed behind him. 

“What the hell was that?” Crutchie yelled as he leaned back up against the bunk. “You let him do that to Eddy and then stop him before he hits me? Why?” 

“Knew ‘e was tired. He wasn’t lookin’ for another fight,” Ten-Pin shrugged. Anger filled Crutchie’s chest. 

“I dunno about you, but where I come from we look out for each other. We don’t let one of our own get soaked when we can stop it! ‘Specially Eddy, he’s just a kid!”  
“We all is!” Fives bellowed, loud enough to make the rest of the room stop and stare. Crutchie met Fives’ glare with his own. “We’se all just kids in this hellhole. No one survives long lookin’ out for othas. So you gotta just look out for yourself! If it wasn’t him, it woulda been someone else. In case it hasn’t gotten in ya thick skull, stuff like that ain’t exactly uncommon.” His voice faltered slightly at the end. Crutchie glanced around the room, none of the other boys even coming close to making eye contact with him, they were all around the ages of the boys he left behind. Some even much younger. 

“Well that’s a terrible way to live! We gotta stick together! Like-like the strike! What we’se doin’ to the papah.” 

“The strike, huh?” Fives snarled, “And how well is this strike workin’ out for ya so far?” Crutchie sunk back and stared back at Eddy. “That’s what I thought.” Without waiting for a response Fives turned away and flopped down onto one of the empty bunks. 

Ten-Pin placed his hand on Crutchie’s shoulder but he shrugged it off with a huff and made his way to Eddy. He grabbed onto bed frame to bedframe, using them as leverage in place of his crutch as he slowly reached the younger boy. Once he was close enough, Crutchie let himself fall to the ground and scooted so that his back was against the wall, delicately lifting Eddy’s head and placing it on his lap. His face was grotesque. Already his eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his pale lips. The pale bruise that once adorned his cheek was now covered with new bruises of every color, his arms and legs mimicked the design. Crutchie hovered his hand over Eddy’s mouth and waited a couple moments, sighing in relief when he felt a weak, hot breath come past his lips. His breathing was weak, but he was alive and that was the important thing. Crutchie had patched up his fair share of newsies, so seeing one of his friends in this state wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean that he still didn’t feel queasy every time. 

He thought back to the times Jack had fought off the Delancey brothers or when Race bit off more than he could chew at Sheepshead. Or even the less serious times when Elmer slipped trying to grab a runaway paper or when Jojo tried to show off his balancing skills by walking along a railing, only to be startled by a pigeon and fall over. Thinking of his brothers made Crutchie smile, through thick and thin, at least they had each other. If he ever got out of this place-no, when he got out of this place- he vowed to himself that he would never take his friends for granted. He’d enjoy every moment he had with those boys- even if it killed him. But a glance back down at Eddy made his smile fall, if this place didn’t kill him first. 

“Eddy, Eddy, Eds, com’on you’se gotta get up. Please wake up,” Crutchie shook Eddy’s shoulder. 

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been sitting with the unconscious boy, but it was much longer than he was comfortable with. At some point after the encounter he heard the circulation bell ring, so it was still sometime in the morning, but probably nearing afternoon. Eddy’s breathing hadn’t gotten any better, but the bleeding on his lip and head finally stopped. Normally, the fact that he was breathing would have been enough to comfort Crutchie, but in the state that the younger boy was in, he couldn’t be sure of anything. He’d once heard of a newsie from Queens who got soaked similarly bad and was laid up for days, just sleeping they said, but soon the days turned into weeks and the boy just never woke up. Crutchie tried to push the thought away, but the fact that the other boys in the room were already treating him as if he was gone wasn’t helping any. 

“Can I have his shoes?” he heard one boy whisper. 

“ Do ya know if he hadda blanket? Maybe I could swipe it,” remarked another. Each whisper was met with a sad glare from Crutchie, he tried to be intimidating, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed him. He studied Eddy’s face as he cradled it against his lap, combing his hand softly through his hair- the way Jack used to when they’d sleep up in the penthouse. He was so focused that he didn’t notice Fives walk up to him. 

“’es not gonna make it, ya’know,” he bluntly stated, looking down at the duo. Crutchie didn’t respond, he just kept playing with Eddy’s hair. “I’s seen it happen too many a times. Plus he was sick. Always coughin’ up blood. Wasn’t gonna last much longa anyways.” Silence. “Why you even care anywho?” 

Crutchie looked up at Fives, “Cause I take care of my friends. That’s why.” 

“What friends? The strikin’ ones?”

“Yeah, all the otha newsies. Jack ‘n Albert ‘n Elmer ‘n Finch ‘n Mike ‘n Henry ‘n Race ‘n Jack ‘n” 

“ Ya said ‘im already,” a weak voice interrupted him. Crutchie looked down to see Eddy’s eyes start to flutter open- or at least as open as they could be. Crutchie let out a laugh and hugged the younger boy- but quickly let go when it resulted in a pained squeak. He looked up at Fives, a stunned expression plaster across his face.

“How ya feelin’ Eddy?” Crutchie knew it was a stupid question, but one that needed to be asked anyway. 

“I’se hurtin’ Crutchie. Ev’rything hurts.” Eddy let out a few sniffles before tears steadily streamed down his cheeks like waterfalls. He sobbed into Crutchie’s chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his shirt. Crutchie held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked his chest. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into his outstretched arms. 

“Sshh, ssh, I know, I know you’re hurtin’. But you’re so strong Eddy. You’re gonna be okay,” Crutchie attempted to soothe the boy. He knew just as well as anyone just how much pain the young boy must be in, he’s had his fair share of soakings. Crutchie just tried to keep Eddy calm for any time he got too worked up he hacked up some more blood. After a while the tears slowed down and Eddy untucked himself out of Crutchie’s shirt. 

“Crutchie?” he asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like bein’ a newsie? With all ya friends?” Crutchie’s eyes lit up and immediately fell into stories about waking up early and selling the newest edition of the paper. He talked about embellishing the headlines when they stunk and all the different selling techniques the boys tried out. 

“Romeo has a real way with the ladies,” he explained, “’n Boots’ gotta face no one can say no to. Not even Jack. He even makes Spot Conlon go soft sometimes…but…uh…don’t let him know I’se told ya.” 

Stories about the job quickly transformed into stories about day to day life. Which then turned into just about any story he could remember or made him smile. Like the one time that Buttons and Henry tried to convince Jack to let them keep a baby bird they found in Central Park. “The younger kids loved it but Finch wouldn’t get anywhere near it!” Or when Race had won big at Sheepshead and treated a bunch of them to some ice cream. “We had to share a’course, but ev’ryone was so excited!” 

After every story Crutchie seemed to gain another listener. It started off with a just a few of the littles, drawn by the lightened demeanor and soft laughs that have evaded their own lips for so long. Eventually, over half of the boys in the room were hanging onto every word Crutchie said, even Fives would occasionally linger by the group. Crutchie hardly noticed his crowd, he was too focused on his happy memories. For the first time since arriving at the Refuge, Crutchie regained his positive attitude. An outsider wouldn’t have known the pain that had covered these kids day in and day out. They would only see a smiling blonde boy, telling story after story, lightening up the room with his smile, and sparking hope in all who heard him. 

“And it went everywhere! I was picking flour out of my hair for weeks! Klopp-“ Crutchie’s story was interrupted by the door slamming open, making all of the boys jump to their feet, all but Crutchie and Eddy who had fallen back asleep at some point. The same guard from earlier that day stepped inside the room and slammed his baton against the doorframe. As soon as he saw the two sitting boys he stormed over and proceeded to shove Eddy off of Crutchie’s lap with his foot. Eddy moaned into the ground, caught a glimpse of the guard, and dug his face back into Crutchie’s legs. 

“You still on strike, kid?” the guard smirked and slammed the back of his heel into the boy’s back. Eddy whimpered and clenched his fingers around Crutchie’s pants. Crutchie glared at the guard but before he could say anything he was hoisted up by the cuff of his shirt to his feet. “The Warden needs to see you,” the guard explained before pushing him towards the door. Crutchie hopped on his good leg as he was nearly dragged into the hallway. What could Snyder possibly want now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Tell me if you did or yell at me! If you'd like to chat I'm always available on the tumblr @ all-the-lovely-newsies


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie visits Snyder. 
> 
> Triggers: Verbal and physical abuse. Some offensive language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everybody! Thank you for keeping up with me! Enjoy the chapter and thank you to everyone who commented!! 
> 
> Triggers: Verbal and physical abuse. Some offensive language.

Crutchie did his best to stay upright as the guard dragged him down the long hallway. Doors lined the walls, taunting him, reminding Crutchie of just home many children called this place home. And if each room was as full as his- he shuddered- trying to push the thoughts away. 

The hallway was unnaturally quiet for one that occupied so many children. Only the creaking of floorboards and the occasional scream or cry from behind one of the doors proving he wasn’t alone. With each scream, Crutchie winced and his mind wandered to all the possible reasons for the outbursts. Suddenly, the guard grabbed his shirt and gave it a quick yank, causing him to fly forward. 

“Would ya quit hoppin’ and hurry up. I ain’t got all day,” the guard sneered. Crutchie just glared at the guard and continued to hop, which earned him a swift cuff to the back of the head. “I said stop hoppin’, you ain’t a rabbit”

“I can’t!” Crutchie snapped, sharper than he intended. He was rewarded by being thrown against the ground, a rippling pain shooting up his leg and hip. 

“You’ll learn to shut your damn trap and show some respect, boy,” the guard jeered and stomped his boot straight into his ribs. He then lifted Crutchie back up by his collar so they were at eye level. “You’re lucky we’re on a time crunch here, ‘cause I can do a lot worse than that.” 

Crutchie swallowed deeply and nodded. “I uh, I need my crutch. Can’t walk without it.” The guard just let out a huff in response and proceeded to drag Crutchie down the hall. After a couple of turns, they stopped at a door with a plaque nailed to the top that read: Donald Snyder- Warden. Crutchie took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his heart that was about to leap out of his chest. The guard seemed to notice the change in demeanor and chuckled before knocking on the door.   
“Come in,” came a deep voice from the other side of the door. The guard opened the door and Crutchie’s eyes went wide. The room was much nicer than any room he’d seen before. A large, wooden desk was situated in the middle of the room, covered in papers and trinkets, a bookcase and file cabinet behind it, and a singular wooden chair sat in front of the desk. Snyder raised his eyes from the booklet he was writing in. “Ah, Brooks, it’s about time.” Brooks shoved Crutchie forward and force him into the chair. 

“Sorry boss, the kid’s slow as they come. Says ‘e can’t walk right or somethin’,” Brooks placed a hand roughly on Crutchie’s shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. 

“Well, boy?” 

“I can’t,” he stated through gritted teeth, “I need my crutch.” Snyder’s eyebrows furrowed but then came to a realization. 

“Ah, right. You’re the crippled kid.”

“I ain’t a-!” Crutchie yelled and promptly received a backhand and a glare from Brooks. Snyder’s disposition remained calm as he reached under his desk and came up with a crutch in hand. Crutchie’s heart sunk a bit when he saw a dark brown stain covering one side of it. 

“I’d watch your mouth, boy” 

“And I’d watch where ya put yer hands, ya schmuck,” Crutchie retorted and pulled his shoulder out of the guard’s grip. Brooks growled but didn’t respond as Snyder held his hand up. 

“I don’t have time for this right now. You’ve already put me behind schedule and I gotta get to lunch,” Snyder pulled out a loosely bound book and flipped it open. Crutchie noticed the long list of names that were smudged and crudely written across the page, each accompanied by a chicken scratch signature and some other information he couldn’t make out. “Gotta name, boy?”

“Crutchie.” Snyder looked up from his book. 

“Got a real name?”

Crutchie shrugged, “’s the only name I respond to.” Snyder mumbled something about ‘stupid street rats’ but scribbled the name down anyway. 

“Last name?”

“Morris.” He wrote it down. 

“Age?” Crutchie hesitated. He’d lied about his age for so long that the actual number evaded him. Apparently he took too long to respond because he received another cuff to the back of the head. 

“Fifteen,” he spat out. Snyder nodded and scribbled down the information. The room stayed eerily silent for a while as he filled out more information. 

“Sign here,” Snyder flipped his book around and handed Crutchie a pen. Crutchie leaned in closer to the desk to write something that resembled his name, he knew the basics of reading and writing, but with little practice, his handwriting was barely legible. As he was writing he glanced at the side of the desk and noticed a copy of The Sun. Upon closer inspection, his eyes lit up at the headline ‘Newsies Stop the World’, it read, accompanied by a large black and white picture of the faces he knew all too well. Before he realized what he was doing Crutchie smiled, let out a laugh, and grabbed the paper. 

“Wouldya look at that?” he pointed to the picture, “That’s me! And-and-and Jack and everyone! We did it, Jack did it, I can’t believe it!” If Crutchie were to have looked up from the paper, he would have seen Snyder’s eyes widen with interest. 

“These boys, they’re your friends?” His voice was deceivingly friendly. 

“They’se my brothers.” Crutchie analyzed every inch of that paper. The way Jack stood proud and strong, the smiles worn by Blink and Mush who were beaming ear to ear, Race’s cigar clenched between his fingers and held high above his head. The one moment where everything was going right. The calm before the storm. The storm. Crutchie’s smile quickly snapped to a frown as he flicked his head up to meet Snyder’s eyes that held a spark and whose lips were curled into a wicked smile. 

“So you’re close with these boys, huh? Especially that Jack. Jack Kelly, he and I go way back as well, y’know.” Crutchie could feel a lump gather in his throat. His hands that still gripped the paper and pen began to uncontrollably shake and he made an attempt to escape from the chair, only to be restrained by Brooks. “Well?”

“N-no sir, I’se-um-neva seen dem in me life. It’s this brain of mine. Has a mind of it’s own,” he stuttered out. 

“Hmm, well,” an odd sweetness lined each of Snyder’s words, “why don’t you take that paper with you and maybe Brooks here can help jog your memory. Whatdya say Brooks?” Brooks smiled maliciously and nodded. 

“Yes, sir I think that can be arranged.”

“I don’t know if I’d trust him sir, as he can’t even tie ‘is shoes right,” Crutchie tried to snap back in an attempt to regain some confidence. He turned around to see Brooks glancing down at his feet. 

“You little.”

“Take it outside Brooks,” Snyder tossed the crutch at Crutchie, frowning a bit when he caught it. “I need my lunch.”

Brooks’ face turned beet red but nodded and forced Crutchie up and out the door. Crutchie gripped onto his crutch, glad to finally be able to get around on his own again. He took another look at the newspaper and wished that he could be with the boys again. What he wouldn’t give to hear Race and Albert’s bickering in the morning or to sit up on the rooftop with Jack, listening to his fantasies of Santa Fe. He’d love to hear just about anything other than the crippling silence of the hallway, broken up only by the clicking of his crutch.

In a moment he regretted thinking that as Brooks roughly shoved Crutchie up against the wall by his throat. His crutch went clattering to the ground as he focused his efforts on grabbing the arm that was constricting his breathing. 

“I’ve had just about enough of you boy,” Brooks snarled, “You and that kid you see to care about so much.” 

“Don’t…you hurt… ‘im” Crutchie managed to gasp out. He looked up just in time to see Brooks’ fist connect with his eye causing pain to ripple through his skull. 

“You may think you’re tough, boy, but you haven’t seen half of what I’m capable of, and I’ll do it with pleasure. So keep running your mouth, keep testing me. I’d love to see what happens, especially now that I have the blessings from the boss. I will break you, oh ho I’ll break you, and I’ll love every minute of it. So I’d wipe that smug look of yours right off before I do it for you.” He gave Crutchie one more good shake before releasing him. Crutchie slumped against the wall, heaving and gasping for air. 

“Get up.” 

Propping himself against his crutch he gathered up the newspaper and followed Brooks back to the room. Crutchie glanced back down at the newspaper, he had to remind himself why he had to be strong, why he was doing this. He was so distracted that he didn’t realize when Brooks stopped in front of the door and shoved him inside. 

Immediately Crutchie’s heart sunk as the door slammed behind him. A large group of boys surrounded the area where he left Eddy. He rushed past the group, ignoring the grumbles of protest as he shoved by. Crutchie winced at the sight, Eddy was curled in a ball, furiously coughing and spitting up blood next to him. There wasn’t even an attempt at getting his sleeve. Ten-Pin, who was kneeling next to the young boy, glanced up at Crutchie and shook his head slowly as he gently placed the back of his hand against Eddy’s forehead. 

Crutchie slumped down next to Ten-Pin and looked at him anxiously.

“ ‘e ain’t looking too good. But ‘es been asking for you.” Crutchie nodded and leaned back against the wall, pulling Eddy into his lap. Ten-Pin let the two be and did his best to shoo away the crowd. 

“Crutchie?” The voice came out strained just above a whisper. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here,” Crutchie’s voice shook. Eddy looked up at him and pointed at the newspaper. 

“What’s that?” Crutchie held out the paper so he could see. 

“It’s the newsies. We made it in the papes. Can ya believe it?” Eddy’s eyes lit up but instead of responding, he quickly turned away and let out another string of coughs, stray blood speckling Crutchie’s pants. The young boy whimpered and curled tighter into a ball. 

“Look here,” Crutchie tried to distract him and pointed at himself in the paper, “There’s me, and- and Jack and Race and Les- ‘es about your age- and Davey,” he continued down the line of brothers. 

Eddy smiled, “Finch is the one who was afraid of the bird, right?” 

Crutchie couldn’t help but laugh. “Yup, that’s him. You were listenin’ huh?” 

Eddy giggled, “ A course! What a- what does the pape say?” 

Crutchie took a breath, in all honesty, he didn’t get a chance to read it himself. He glanced at the headline, “Newsies Stop the World” he read aloud, “With all eyes fixed on the trolley strike, another battle brews in the city-”

“ You’se like those fancy guys in shiny uniforms. A real battler,” a voice perked up from the room. 

“It’s soldier, idiot,” another proclaimed. 

Crutchie’s eyes snapped up to see that he had once again gained an audience. A handful of boys were either sitting cross-legged or leaning in from their beds to get a piece of the information. The one who spoke up puffed out his chest, “My Pa was a soldier. Had a shiny medal and ev’rything.”

“Yeah? And what’d good that do ya? Ya still in here ain’t’cha?” piped up the boy sitting next to him. The first boy turned to punch the other and soon there was a scuffle on the floor. A ruckus quickly followed and a guard had slammed on the door to quiet them. When the two boys didn’t stop Fives came over from his bunk. 

“Woah, hold on there Private!” Fives sneered pulled the two boys apart. “What we don’t need in here is us fighting each other, got that?” he stared straight at the boys and they quickly nodded. 

“Sorry, Fives” they chorused. 

“Now, I’m sure this kid’ll finish the article if you idiots would be quiet.” Fives cuffed the back of both boys’ heads and nodded towards Crutchie. Crutchie opened his mouth to thank him but was quickly silenced by a glare from the older boy. “Well” 

Crutchie cleared his throat, “Uh- ehem- A modern-day David posed to take on the rich and powerful Goliath, Jack Kelly stands ready to beat the behemoth, Pulitzer,” he continued and was uninterrupted for the rest of the article. 

By the time Crutchie finished many of the boys had lost interest, but Eddy’s eyes stayed fixed on Crutchie, clinging on to every word. 

“Jack seems really amazing,” he whispered through a cough. 

Crutchie sighed, “Yeah, he is. He really is. I miss him.” 

“You could write him a letter.”

“Huh?” 

“A letter, y’know. Sometimes my Ma would write ‘em to my Grams cause she lives cross da ocean. You could write Jack one, and we could give it ta ‘im.” 

Crutchie smiled at the boy’s innocence. “ Sure Eddy, I think that’s a great idea.” He flipped through the paper until he got to a page with some blank space. 

“You ready?” Eddy nodded. “Dear Jack,” Crutchie started, reading aloud as he wrote, “Greetings from the Refuge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! The end makes me tear up a little. Tell me what you thought or come yell at me on Tumblr I'm @ All-The-Lovely-Newsies

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If there's something you'd like me to tag specifically let me know! If you want to yell at me or just chat, hit me up on the Tumblrs @ All-the-lovely-newsies !!


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